


survivor's guilt

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood, Character Death Fix, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship/Love, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, IT 2019, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Introspection, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: He shouldn’t be alive. That’s not what was supposed to happen. But a promise is a promise.





	survivor's guilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glove23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glove23/gifts).

> On the subject of self harm/suicide, I took this from a perspective I have as someone who self harmed/attempted suicide. I didn't want to erase the canon of what happened but I did want to undo Stanley's death. He doesn't deserve that. 
> 
> Alrighty. I saw the very first showing in my town and I don't regret it. I'm broken. I feel so broken. But I really wanted to start writing again for the fandom so I decided to start this off with a "Stanley Uris Lives AU" that Conner wanted to see. I really hope you guys like this. Did you see the movie yet? What'd you think?
> 
> ((Want a request for IT? I'm doing 100-1000 word fics of any friendship or romantic ship + any prompt until I feel like quitting. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a friendship or romantic ship + prompt. You need to specify if you want SFW or NSFW (for 18+ readers only). Please check [Full Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478582). The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

*

Maybe it's a little foolish. Writing a suicide note for childhood friends he hasn't spoken to in nearly thirty years.

(It's _not_ a suicide note, Stanley's mind insists. It's a _letter_. Because they need to know _why_ he took himself off the board.)

Clear as day… clear as the shard of glass between Bill's fingers… he remembers. The oath. The feeling of thick and gauzy bandages chaffing his face and the dry air blowing against Stanley's eyelids trembling shut, and Bill's low, soothing murmur. How easily the jagged glass-edge ran against Stanley's palm, popping apart his flesh, sinking in. Dark red cascading out.

It feels the same now. Stanley folds his bleeding wrists together, leaning sideways, resting his head to his quivering arms. He shuts his eyes, breathing in, breathing in that dry, summery air in the field. His heart slowing, getting heavier in Stanley's chest.

(Trauma presents itself in different ways, Stanley's mind faintly reminds him. Some fade like memories. Others don't and gestate. They stay clear… _clear_ and razor-_bright_ and _sharp_… and Stanley dulled them with time and space apart, compartmentalizing his life in Derry, Maine into neatly organized and locked boxes. Maybe they weren't meant to hold forever. But he tried. He really did try.)

_"I swear, Bill…"_

He's exhausted. The bathwater is warm and puddling red, but Stanley's cold. Naked. Unable to drawn in the following breath.

*

Until he does.

*

Stanley wakes _lighter_, his vision spinning. Disorientated.

The emergency room doctors revive him, hooking him up to IVs and blood bags and fluids. Stanley's name repeated over and over. Questions. He's responsive and vacant-faced and still naked with the exception of the loosely tied hospital gown.

He shouldn't be alive. That's not what was supposed to happen.

Patty storms in, her golden hair damp from rainwater, her eyes wide and flushed pink. She yells, and tosses her purse aside, and then falls to her knees beside Stanley's cot. She grips tightly to the railing, head bowed. This feels _worse_ than glass — the way Patty's high-pitched wails pierce through Stanley's entire being. He has never been more _sorry_ in his whole entire life. Not about anything.

"Baby-love," Stanley calls out hoarsely, inching his pale, trembling fingers to her wrist. He can't make it right, but gets steadily warmer and calmer against his wife's bare, lotioned skin. Patty's hand re-grasps the bed's railing and then clutches onto him.

He promised her… long ago, on their wedding day… he promised to _never_ hurt her. Another promise Stanley couldn't keep.

*

There's no excuse to break his oath if Stanley can walk and talk.

His letters to Bill and everyone else were likely confiscated by the police during their investigation. Stanley mulls over his next decision, quietly stealing a pair of his trousers and underwear and a folded, dark button-up shirt from Patty's bag. Along with his overcoat. She sleeps fitfully in the hospital guest's chair, positioned upright, her legs and ankles curled together. Patty's makeup smudged noticeably, leaking from her earlier tears.

He kisses her gently and briefly on the lips.

It might be the last time.

*

Four hours and twenty five minutes. Stanley nods off during his flight, and during the taxi ride onto Derry Main Bridge. He scrolls through a new text message. Mike said they would all meet at the Jade of the Orient: some inexpensive, neon-lit restaurant.

It's late. Nearly closing hours.

A group of people hurry out the double-doors, shouting and frantic. Stanley glimpses Beverly's light red curls. Richie's glasses. Mike, older and taller, more glum in expression, turns around to the blacktop where Stanley observes them.

"Holy fuck…" Eddie croaks, stunned.

They approach him, one by one, mumbling Stanley's name and gawking.

Beverly immediately reaches for Stanley's jacket-sleeve, rolling up the cuff to expose his thick wrist-bandages. Like she knew the whole time. It's not possible. It shouldn't be _possible_ where they all are, and yet, Stanley feels relief crashing down on him. Her mossy-green eyes visibly watering.

"Oh… _oh_, Stanley," Beverly whispers, crying and embracing him. One of her hands raking through Stanley's dark curls.

Bill grasps lightly to the other man's forearm, looking drained and frightened and ashamed. He joins Beverly, hugging around her and Stanley, and Richie says nothing and moves in, dropping his forehead to Stanley's jaw. The rest of them close the distance eventually, Ben's hand settling comfortingly to Bill's nape and dragging up Stanley's back, Eddie patting his shoulder with an awkward grimace before opening his arms into the collective hug, and Mike… straightforward and kind and so, so brave… Mike mumbles out a "_thank you, Stanny_" and grins so hard that Stanley's own lips twitch.

A promise is a promise.

*


End file.
